


the way i thought that we'd end up

by kitahart



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Depression, Found Family, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitahart/pseuds/kitahart
Summary: “Sir?” Magnus is startled by the quiet press of Angus’s small hand into his larger one. “What are you planning on doing when all this is over?”He can’t help it, he laughs a little at that. “I don’t know, I wasn’t really planning on making it that long!”Or: Five times dying was a joke to Magnus, and one time someone didn't find it funny.





	the way i thought that we'd end up

**Author's Note:**

> _(i got a picture on the mantlepiece / of the way that I thought that we'd end up /[but this shares no resemblance to that](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AlNN-pY5gEE))_
> 
> i've been chipping away at this fic since even before magnus's thoughts on death were revealed in ep. 57, but that prompted me to put the pieces together and finish it. this is... pretty much 100% projection content
> 
> **warnings:** the entire fic deals w the subject matter of suicidal ideation from a character who compartmentalizes it to a point that they don't realize that it's what they're experiencing. additional warnings for brief, non-graphic mentions of canonical character death and torture, some internalized ableism, and an extended discussion about suicide towards the end of the fic.

**i.**

Magnus wakes up with a vague feeling of disappointment.

He remembers… not a lot, actually. Rushing into battle, something hitting him hard. Then: lying on his back for half a second, unable to breathe, which he’d decided was what dying must be like. He’d stared up at the sun and thought, _Yeah, okay, it’s been a good run_ before blackness swallowed him.

Anyways: here he is, evidently not dead, but with a splitting headache and a truckload of merchandise that hasn’t been protected, and people that probably haven’t been either.

He opens his eyes up to someone standing over him, which is a thing that hasn’t happened in quite some time. He can’t focus on anything just yet, not with rays of light stabbing daggers through his head, and is relieved when the stout figure moves to block out some of the sun.

Oh. That’d be… Merle, then, judging from both the stature and the fact that he’s still alive. Magnus puts a hand to his aching forehead; his fingers are slick with blood when he pulls them back. There’s a cut on his temple, near his hairline, throbbing with pain and still bleeding despite the fact that Magnus can _feel_ that he’s been healed.

“Oh! Hey, you’re not dead, that’s good to know!” Magnus turns his head, achingly slow, to see Taako sitting off to the side, skirt draped over his knees as he stares disinterestedly at his fingernails. Merle grumbles something about _not fucking moving_ and starts prodding at the head wound again.

(Unbidden, the memory of Julia springs to mind, her fingers prodding the wound over his eye, the one that’s just a scar now. Her deep voice saying, _What’d you do to yourself this time, Maggie?_ The way his heart lit up at her using nicknames that nobody else was allowed to use.)

(It’s been a few years, and things aren’t entirely awful, not anymore, but sometimes moments like _this_ happen, tiny reminders that bring back old memories, and it’s like he’s drowning all over again. But the instant passes, and he can get his head above water, and then he’s fine. It’s _fine.)_

“What…” It’s hard to talk, like his brain is full of cotton. Bits and pieces are coming back to him, like the fact that there was a fight, and Magnus had swung high when the other guy swung low, and–

“You charged right into a tree branch.” Taako still hasn’t looked up from his nails. “Fuckin’, I don’t even know, I was doing some dope shit with Magic Missile and then I turned around in time to see you whiff and brain yourself on a tree and– bam! Just like that, out like a light, only I was personally operating under the assumption that you were a goner, because _man_ you must’ve had some bad rolls in order to fuck up that badly!”

Oh. Now he remembers, no thanks to Taako’s gleeful, rambling account of how badly he messed up. 

They’d taken up another low-paying job sponsored by another stingy noble, some guy who wanted cheap guards for his wagon and not much else, at least in terms of quality. Good for them and bad for the poor guy whose wagon was burnt to a crisp a few feet away from where he’s lying, Magnus guesses. He should’ve heard the bandits coming a mile away, but evidently nobody had, because the ambush was completely unexpected, the three of them caught off guard.

Probably a good thing he’s still here, considering how shitty the whole _braining himself with a tree branch_ thing went down. What would people think, if they found out?

Magnus struggles to sit up, managing to leverage himself onto his elbows before Merle stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Hey! Slow down there, lad, lemme get a look at you before you run off and need us to save your ass _again._ ”

“Your healing is shit, old man,” Taako says, and Magnus shrugs him off, sitting up fully. Merle grumbles something bitter and goes about collecting his tools.

“Listen,” Taako picks up once Merle’s attention is focused on packing his bags. “I don’t, like – I work alone, okay –”

“Yeah, same,” Magnus says. These two seem intent to stick around, which is fine, but...

“Look, my man, you _gotta_ be more careful in battle, is all.”

This is absolutely not where he expected this conversation to go.

“Like, no offense, but you kinda _are_ my meat-shield right now,” Taako continues. “And you’re like, fuckin’ charging into battle, which is great, but if you go down – I’m gone! No more Taako!” He emphasizes his point by smashing a fist into the palm of his hand. “Oh, and Merle too, I guess,” he adds after a second.

“...Yeah, okay,” Magnus agrees. He hadn’t really thought about it that way, hadn’t thought about it at all.

“Good,” Taako says decisively, and they both settle back into an awkward silence.

“Guess we’ll have to tell the poor guy that all his merchandise is lost.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Taako doesn’t really seem to care. He’s just in it for the money, Magnus figures. Merle’s probably in it for, like, the experience points or whatever, and as for himself – well, it’s dangerous work, but he protects people better like this. With his life. It’s the best thing he can do for anyone.

A beat of silence, and then Merle pipes up with, “So, who’s Julia?”

Magnus’s hand automatically goes to his chest, to the place where his ring still sits. It’s too valuable to wear in this line of work, so he’d threaded it on a chain before starting the job, and the metal stays cold despite resting just above his heart. 

It’s not right, he thinks. His finger is bare now, not even a tan line to prove that there was a ring there, once. They weren’t married long enough for that. 

Sometimes, Magnus imagines that there should should be, like – a scar, maybe, or a mark, there on the third finger of his left hand. Something to prove that the ring was there, that it happened, that he was happy once. 

It’s not right.

“Magnus? Dude?” Taako waves an arm in front of his face, and Magnus realizes that he must’ve zoned out.

“Sorry. Just, how did you…”

“You kept saying her name,” Merle says, waddling back over to where Taako is sitting and heaving himself up to sit on a rock. “While you were unconscious, that is.”

“Oh.”

“So who is she? You got a girl back home?”

“No.” Merle doesn’t even know where home _is_ , Magnus thinks, a little bitterly. People forgot Raven’s Roost, and they _keep_ forgetting, and now Magnus, Hero-Magnus, Folk-Legend-Slash-Carpenter Magnus, is working odd jobs for pennies, and once he’s gone there’ll be nobody to remember.

“Ex-girlfriend, then?”

“No.”

“So, what–”

“Look, just drop it, okay?” Magnus snaps, immediately feeling horrible. He doesn’t particularly _want_ to do this many jobs with these… people, but. Still.

“For the record, I liked it better when you were dead,” Taako says after a moment, the corners of his lips turning up into a wry smile. Merle laughs and slaps Magnus’s shoulder, and after a minute, he relents.

“Yeah, me too.”

**ii.**

Time passes.

Magnus wins more fights, and loses a few, and he has _people_ to protect now, so he gets more careful. And then he doesn’t just have people to protect, but a whole organization. He’s sort of starting to understand the magnitude of that right now.

“What was that about rogue members again?” Merle whispers as one of their attackers binds his hands, and is rewarded with a kick to the ribs and a muttered demand to keep silent.

Magnus can’t help it – he _growls,_ pulling at his bonds with all his strength. It’s almost enough to get him to Merle. If he could go a few inches farther –

A second masked figure drags him back against the cave wall, and he _almost_ gets his hands around their neck before they chain him. Standing upright, a restraint across his waist, both hands bound just in case. He struggles, just in case they did the job poorly.

“ _Stop,”_ Taako hisses from somewhere to the left of him, and that's all it takes for the strength to bleed out of Magnus. He slumps against the wall, utterly exhausted.

Fuck, just – Merle’s being chained up on the other side of him, his glasses crooked and askew, one lens cracked. It looks wrong. And Taako shouldn't have that tone in his voice, the one that says, _you’ll make this worse,_ the one that says that he’s probably done this before.

_Fuck._

He’s not very good at protecting people.

Two of the cloaked figures turn away, whispering amongst themselves; the third approaches Magnus and, before he can even realize what's happening, there's a knife pressing against his throat. 

“The relic,” they say. “Where is it?”

“Hey, look, I – I don't know either!” If his hands were free, Magnus would be spreading them helplessly. As it is, the chains are thick, probably already built for someone of his size, and all he can do is struggle futilely. “We know just about as much as you do, honest! Look, maybe we can help each other out–”

He knows that Killian and Carey were on the trail of some deserters a few days ago, knows that he must have found their bounty first. If he can just stall until Team Sweet Flips arrives, keep their captors busy ‘till someone at base misses them–

The knife presses in harder, an unspoken threat. Magnus tilts his chin up and leans in, just as much as his bonds allow him.

“Go ahead,” he says, mind carefully blank. “Do it, I don't care.”

His captor doesn't budge, and neither does he. There’s a sharp sting there, under his chin, and he feels a drop of blood trickling down his neck, but he remains immobile, jaw set, staring them down. 

“You won’t, right? You can't do it,” he says. _Cowards._

He closes his eyes, waits for the pain. It doesn't come. Instead: the pressure at his throat is gone, and, when he blinks –

They’ve moved the knife over to Taako. One gloved hand is fisted in his hair, twisting his head back. The knife rests at the base of his ear, pressing in just hard enough to make a small indent there.

“No–” Magnus gasps, feeling like he's been punched in the stomach. “No – You fucking _cowards,_ don’t you dare–”

“No?” his captor asks as Taako struggles, kicking at their legs and spitting a string of curses. “Give us the location of the relic, then, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll – I’ll tell you everything you want to know, just–” He knows that he’s begging, knows that he doesn't have any information to _give,_ but. He can stall them, at least, make up something until they’re rescued.

 _Okay._ Magnus takes a breath, allowing himself the opportunity to clear his head. He’ll keep his friends safe, wait for the Regulators to find him and, in the meantime, tell them everything they want to know.

* * *

It shouldn't be a shock, really, but Magnus can't help the twisted-up feeling he gets when Killian knocks the body of one of their tormentors aside, revealing his face. The figure with a knife, Magnus had known him – not closely, he doesn't even know his name, but they’d passed each other on the quad regularly, nodded to each other in the cafeteria. Had he been planning it the whole time?

He finds himself wondering, not for the first time, if he’s on the right side of history.

Carey winds up picking the locks on his hands with an embarrassing amount of ease, giving Magnus a hairpin and a gentle cuff upside the head.

“Your next lesson,” she says. Her tone is light, but there's an undercurrent of relief to it.

He’s managed to free himself by the time that Taako’s cuffs are undone and he slides to the ground, wobbling unsteadily on his feet. Magnus jumps forward to grab his wrist, steadying him, almost immediately regretting the offer as Taako pushes him off, hissing like an angry cat.

“Full offense, but hands off the fuckin’ merchandise _,_ don’t even think about it–”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Magnus says, holding both palms out in what he hopes is a placating gesture. It sort of works, because Taako glares at him and spits out another string of curses before heading over to bug Carey and Killian, probably. It’s not his fault – Taako arches away from touch on _good_ days, and Magnus really should’ve checked to make sure it was okay, but just – _damn._ He rubs the side of his neck absently, wincing when his fingers brush over the cut from earlier.

“Let me have a look at that.” Magnus looks down and, sure enough, Merle is standing at knee height, both arms folded across his chest. The gesture is a little ridiculous with the size of his wooden hand, but Magnus bends down anyways, allowing him access to the wound.

He’s not expecting the sudden shock of magic when Merle lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, nor the all-too-familiar sensation of healing. The wound on his neck is closing up, his bruises slowly disappearing, the collection of scrapes and cuts that he’s acquired throughout the day fading into nothing. Magnus watches the scabs on his knuckles close over (remembers blindly swinging for a face, coming in contact with the harsh stone wall instead) and can’t name the heavy feeling in his chest.

“You blew a spell slot,” he says slowly, and Merle nods. “On some cuts. On _me._ ” 

“Yeah, my dude,” Taako says from behind him, voice surprisingly soft. Magnus slowly rises to his feet, and Taako wastes no time in yanking his hand away from him, staring in abject fascination at the healing cuts.

“You – Today was, that was sort of, you were really, uh–” He flaps his free hand in Merle’s direction, evidently done with this line of discussion.

“Brave,” Merle says gruffly, resting a hand Magnus’s knee, which is about as high as he can reach. “And stupid. That too.”

“Yeah,” Taako says, sweeping his thumb across the now-healed skin on Magnus’s hand. Almost fondly. Almost like he gave a shit. “That was pretty stupid, dude.”

Magnus breathes, tries to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. “I know,” he says, half-smiling. His friends look pleased. 

It’s almost enough to convince himself.

**iii.**

He finds himself thinking a lot about how he wound up here these days.

 _Here_ as in, here on the moon, on the shiny new observation deck looking out onto the blues and greens of the planet below him but also _here_ as in, just –

He’s thirty.

That’s not a surprise, not really, just… He’s been thinking about it more. Magnus’s age is more relevant now than ever, with the unfortunate lifespan discrepancies of elves and dwarves on his mind. He’s aging a lot faster than Taako and Merle, that’s for sure, and he won’t always be there to protect them. Things are good right now, but he knows that he can’t wake up as fast as he used to, that it takes him an extra half-second to parry a blow that would have cost his party their lives.

He’s slowing down, and it’s just that Magnus never planned on living to an age where he had to slow down in the _first_ place.

He’s interrupted by a tug on his sleeve, the curly hair of a certain boy detective popping into view. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Taako has joined them too, making a cozy trio at the observation deck. Must’ve just finished with magic lessons.

“Sir?” Angus says tentatively, and Magnus slides over, giving the kid more room if he wants it. Evidently, he doesn’t, because he takes up a spot by Magnus’s elbow, pressing against his side. “What’re you doing out here?”

Huh. Now that Magnus thinks about it, it _is_ early.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thought I’d wander around, say hi to the Voidfish ‘n all that. How about you, Ango? Came here to watch the sunrise with me?”

“Oh no, sir! I was supposed to get up bright and early for my lessons today, but we finished even earlier than planned! Taako said I did a _great_ job,” Angus says, puffing his chest out. It’s pretty adorable, actually.

Magnus raises his eyebrows and Taako, who’s elected to drape himself over the railing, mimes an explosion over Angus’s head. Ah. Probably a good explanation as to why they’re both singed, and why Taako’s skirt and Angus’s hat are both faintly smoking.

“Boy Wonder over here figured out how to crit fail on a Fireball but, hey, no biggie, right?” The expression on Taako’s face definitely says otherwise, and Magnus elects to not expand on that line of conversation.

The three of them are silent for a moment, watching the rotation of the planet before them, the soft yellow glow on the horizon indicating the coming sunrise.

“Sir?” Magnus is startled by the quiet press of Angus’s small hand into his larger one. “What are you planning on doing when all this is over?”

“When _what_ is over, Dango?”

“You know, the – this. Everything. You have five relics, sirs, that’s way over halfway there and I _know_ that you’re going to get the others, I have complete and utter faith in you, and–”

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Taako interrupts, and Angus takes a gasp of air before continuing.

“–and what I just really wanted to know is that after all the relics are gone and the Bureau doesn’t need to exist anymore, what the three of you are going to do?”

Magnus can’t help it, he laughs a little at that. “I don’t know, I wasn’t really planning on making it that long!”

“You _what,_ sir?” Angus says at the same time as Taako exclaims, “The actual _fuck,_ dude?”

Magnus is still stuck on _when the Bureau doesn’t need to exist,_ but Angus is expecting an answer, his free hand twisting anxiously in the hem of his skirt. He hums for a moment, considering. Choosing his words carefully.

“I dunno, it’s just. These past few relics, they’re been, things have been, hm. More intense?” Taako mumbles something like _yeah, for sure,_ and Magnus takes it as a sign to continue. “And I just, I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket or anything, ‘cause the difficulty on these things has been going _way_ up, and, yeah. No guarantee that we’ll make it through to the end.”

“Sir, that’s–”

“It sounds like you’ve got your eggs in one basket, all right, and it’s the _wrong fucking basket._ ” There’s a bite to Taako’s words, but his expression is blank, betraying nothing. “You want to talk future plans? Taako’s got his all lined up. First things first, the second we turn in that last relic, I’m going to start _Sizzle It Up_ again, reel in that sweet cash, then I’m thinking I’ll get another book deal–”

With each word, Angus has been looking more and more bereft, and Taako sighs. “–and, I guess, if those two idiots want to fuckin’ chop vegetables for the rest of their lives, then they’re welcome to tag along. You too, boychik,” he says, and Angus, no longer on the verge of tears, beams. “You can, I dunno, work the crowd. Do some shitty Mage Hands. I don’t really care.”

Angus is practically trembling with joy by the time Taako finishes with a finger lazily jabbed in Magnus’s direction. “See, that’s a _plan,_ homie! What do you say?”

“I… yeah.” Magnus rubs the back of his neck. “Sounds good. If everything, yknow, works out…” He trails off.

Before _,_ back in the rebellion, the future had seemed to shine in front of him: this bright, idealistic thing that he could nearly _touch._ He’d never been the planning sort, had always rushed in without a thought, but it was the easiest thing in the world to imagine growing old with Julia.

He hasn’t imagined a future with him in it for a while, now.

“Of course it’ll work out,” Taako says, self-assured as always. “Who needs luck when you've got _me?_ ”

“Um,” Angus says cautiously, twisting his hands together. “I still–”

“Hey, enough of this!” Magnus bends down so he’s at Boy Detective eye level. “You good if I pick you up for a sec, Dango?”

“I’m a little old to be carried, sir, but go ahead, I guess?”

With permission granted, Magnus scoops up Angus with ease, settling him on his hip. At this height, he’s taller than the observation deck railing. The Bureau didn’t design these things well for four-foot tall detectives.

“Look, I don’t – You’re a good kid, Ango. You know that, right?

“Yes, of course! But what’s this about, sir?”

“Nothing!” Magnus says quickly. “Just… everything’s going to be fine. You don’t need to worry at all.”

“Yeah, my man, what he said!” Taako drawls, but he’s looking at Magnus with that _expression_ again, the one that he can't quite put a finger on.

The sun is rising over the planet now, golden streaks of light filling the sky, and Magnus just – he wants to take a photo of this moment, immortalize it _just in case_. He wants to name the warm feeling in his chest, probably _would_ , but –

“Gonna miss this,” he says softly. Angus doesn't even stir, but Taako inhales sharply beside him. _Fuck_ elf ears.

“Whaddya mean? You’ve got the rest of your life to hang around me, homie! You’re not gonna miss out on anything, we’ve got forever!”

“...Yeah, sure,” Magnus says after a moment. He doesn't even know _why_ he’d said that, why his chest hurts. “Forever.”

**iv.**

People tend to die a lot in the Bureau.

It’s not – he’s not _grieving_ or anything. He doesn't know the employees, not the way Lucretia does. They’re just coworkers, people he knows, people who go on missions and then don’t come back and then the Bureau is the only thing left to remember their lives.

Death is funny like that.

Anyways: funerals. They don’t happen often, but Magnus gets the idea that he’s required to attend, maybe more out of a social understanding than anything else. He doesn't know these people, he thinks, watching Carey bury her face in Killian’s flannel shirt, but everyone else seemed to.

Merle is here, wearing a slightly less grungy pair of cargo shorts, and Taako is, as usual, dressed to the nines: he’s quite possibly used a stapler to attach a black veil to the brim of his hat, and every few minutes he dabs at his face with a lace handkerchief and sniffles performatively. It would be an impressive performance, if Merle could stop laughing.

The Voidfish ceremony isn’t quite as shocking as Boyland’s – one or two lights spark inside of them, maybe, but it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of people left to remember. Whoever this person was, all their friends were here, at the Bureau.

The afterparty is… a little wild. Magnus spots Taako across the room, fake-sobbing (or maybe _really_ sobbing; the tears seem very real). He’s about halfway through an impressive eulogy when Magnus drags him away.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he whines, pushing his shades up onto his forehead. Naturally, he doesn't look any worse for the wear. “I was _just_ getting that lip quiver down, it’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to practice–”

“Right, anyways,” Magnus says, biting back irritation. It’s not Taako’s fault that he’s like this. “I’m about done here, I think. Let Merle know that I’m headed back, pay my regards to the Director, all of that.”

He’s being rude and he knows it, but Taako just shrugs, flashing a dumb lopsided grin. “Funerals not your thing?”

“Not… really, no. It’s kind of, uh…” _Difficult?_

“Yeah, man, I get you.”

The shock must show on his face, because Taako, who’s been working what could have been his natural environment for the past hour, looks away for a second. 

“Empathy, right? Gotta fake it ‘till you make it and all that.”

Something inside Magnus twists. He _knows_ Taako, knows that that isn't even remotely the case, even if he seems to want it to be, but this particular conversation never winds up in good places, so he just nods.

“Anyways!” Taako flashes a smile again, clapping Magnus on the shoulder. “Go do your thing, homie. I’ll cover for you.”

Magnus takes one last look at the room around him, people crying and celebrating and arguing. Dying is messy, he decides. 

* * *

It’s a few hours later when Magnus finds himself standing outside Taako’s door. He hesitates once, twice, then finally knocks.

“Merle, I swear, if you’re going to show me more of your weird plant shit, I will Magic Missile your ass into–”

“It’s me,” Magnus says, leaning heavily on the doorknob.

A pause. “...Come in.”

Taako’s room is a fucking mess. Magnus picks his way around stacks of books and discarded skirts to find Taako lounging on his window seat, an open spellbook in his hand.

“What can I help you with, my dude? What’s up?”

Magnus shifts uncomfortably. “I’ve just been… thinking, I guess.” He waits for Taako to interject with a witty comment, but instead he just waves his hand, indicating for Magnus to keep going. “I keep thinking about like, funerals, and the – and we don’t really, none of us have like, wills or anything, but I just wanted to – ask, I guess?” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. “There's not like, a lot I really – that is, it would mean a lot to me if you would take care of Steven. If something happened to me, that is.”

“No.”

“What?” Magnus’s heart drops into his stomach.

Taako picks up his book again, lazily flipping through the pages. “You heard me.”

“I know, I just – I won’t press the issue, but just, _why?”_

“‘Cause, my man. If you’re dead – and I’m pretty sure that that's what you're implying – then the rest of us are too, remember? Taako won’t be around to look after your dumb fish, he’ll be smashed into a pancake ‘cause you decided to rush in!” Taako flips a page, eyes half-lidded. “So, no, I absolutely will not support whatever kind of suicidal heroics you’re planning. Go ask Merle, if you're really that desperate.”

“I –” Magnus stumbles back a step, suddenly lightheaded. “I didn’t, it was just –”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Taako says, voice dull. “Go ask Merle. That’s his thing anyways, right?”

“...Yeah,” Magnus says. “For sure.”

* * *

“Hey, old man,” Magnus says. “Come over here, why don’t you? I’ve got something to show you”

Merle obileges, waddling over to the table where Magnus has set Steven up. 

“Is it your shitty fish?”

“Yeah – hey! The first rule is, don’t insult him. Steven’s sensitive, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay.” Merle drums the fingers of his wooden hand on the table. “So what’s this about?”

“I, uh. Just wanted to show you how to take care of Steven? No reason, he’s just – he’s a neat lil dude, and fish are kind of your thing, right?”

“I guess,” Merle says slowly. “Kinda adjacent to plants, after all.”

“Right! Okay, so when you want to feed him, you’ll want to unscrew the top, like _this._ He’s magic, so he doesn't need to eat that often, but I like to give him treats on holidays, and his birthday, and his half-birthday…”

* * *

It’s late when Magnus finally sinks onto his bed, placing Steven on the dresser across from him. He feels better, having gotten that taken care of. Lighter, somehow.

They have a mission tomorrow, just a minor artifact that the Director wants taken care of before they can scout further ahead. His bags are already packed, but Magnus checks them again. Everything is piled neatly inside his backpack, and he slips Steven inside as well, giving the glass sphere a soft pat before zipping up the pocket.

In a sharp contrast to Taako’s room, his bedroom is still sparse. He never decorated, doesn't have the tendency to attract clutter the way the other two do, still uses the same sheets that came with the room. Besides his pack, the only item left in the room is a rusted sword, one that he’d used forever ago. He must’ve had more possessions at one point, just – he likes to give things away. Less of a mess for him.

After some thought, Magnus takes the sword and props it up against his dresser, where it’s in plain view. Just in case. He sinks back down on his bed, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets. Everything in its place, and all that.

**v.**

It’s the end of the world.

Something like that, anyways. Magnus spits out a mouthful of blood and reaches for Railsplitter, only to find that its usual spot on his back is empty. Must’ve gotten knocked off when he was hit.

The battle has been disorienting, the field filled with smoke, and he’s lost track of who they're fighting at this point. There might have been a dragon involved? There’s probably a dragon involved.

Magnus leverages himself up slowly, painfully, staggering when a wave of dizziness hits him. He grips his head. There's something metallic and slick under his fingers.

Right. Head wounds. He chokes on a laugh, comes away coughing up more blood.

Railsplitter lies in the dirt about fifteen feet to his left, next to an unconscious Merle. To his right, Taako’s conscious but prone: Magnus can see him out of the corner of his eye, weakly casting spells at the large shape looming in the smoke. A blast of flame nearly misses him as he stumbles towards his goal, and a wave of force almost knocks him off his feet in the seconds that follow. He doesn't look behind him, but Taako has to be out of spell slots by now.

Railsplitter is at his feet. Magnus steps over it.

He’s badly wounded and knows it, knows that he can’t protect his friends like this, not when they’re scattered across the field and he can barely stand. Merle can’t heal in this state, and Magnus hasn’t been keeping track of the party’s hit points, but he would wager that Taako can’t take another blow.

It’s over.

He scoops Merle into his arms, reaching for Railsplitter after a moment’s hesitation. The smoke around them is starting to take on an unnerving red tinge, and Magnus keeps moving forward. One foot in front of the other.

He’s tired.

Taako is out cold by the time Magnus reaches him, which is just as well. They never had a chance here anyways.

Magnus stands over their prone bodies, but Railsplitter is too heavy to lift. He couldn't parry damage even if he wanted to.

There’s nothing funny about this situation. He shouldn't be laughing, it’s just. He’s more useful here, protecting people with his life.

Something in the shadows roars loudly, shaking the ground, and Magnus drops to his knees, pulling Taako and Merle into his lap. He can do this. He’s been a good person. 

He _deserves_ this.

It’s hard to breathe now, and the glow of flames is visible through the shadows. Magnus pulls Taako and Merle closer, hunching over them. _It’s going to be fine,_ he wants to say, but chokes on the words. It _is_ fine, though. It’s been a good run. This is what he does best. 

When the fire comes, when Magnus tightens his arms around his friends and allows the flames to wash over him, it doesn't even hurt.

**vi.**

Magnus wakes up with a vague feeling of disappointment.

It’s not a topic he’s devoted an extensive amount of thought to, but he’s pretty sure that being dead wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Further inspection (sitting up hurts like _hell)_ reveals that he’s in his own bed. Someone’s gone through the trouble to cover him with a blanket, even.

So: not dead, then.

It’s the middle of the night, judging from the lack of artificial light outside his window, but Magnus swings his legs over the side of the bed anyways, wincing at the pain in his muscles. He aches, but it’s more like the general full-body soreness that comes with a full day of training than –

Than what happened on the mission.

_Fuck._

Standing up isn't really working, but Magnus makes some sort of panicked stumble to the doorway, breath catching in his throat when he sees Merle lying on the couch, passed out in front of the flickering Fantasy TV.

He’s snoring.

If Merle’s fine, then Taako’s probably good too, then – then they're both okay. A wave of relief washes over him. It’s okay. They both survived and it’s okay.

With _that_ concern alleviated, Magnus takes stock of himself. Everything hurts, but the only physical sign of yesterday’s (?) battle is a shiny burn scar on his arm. He could swear that it’s faded a tiny bit since he woke up. Other than that, he’s just kinda hungry? Healing magic is weird.

Anyways: Food. Magnus tiptoes into the kitchen, careful not to wake the sleeping Merle. It’s pitch black at this hour, and he gropes for the overhead cupboards, rummaging through them by touch alone. Maybe there’s leftovers in the fridge.

“Disappointed?” The shrill voice comes from his right, a scant few feet away, and Magnus panics, shrieks, and hits the light switch at 60% strength.

Leaning up against the counter, a mug emblazoned with “STEAL EVERYTHING YOUR GAY LITTLE HANDS CAN CARRY” in one hand, the other hand shielding his face from the sudden blinding light, is Taako.

“Fuck, _shit,_ turn down the floodlights, my man! Some of us are real fuckin’ overstimulated here!” Taako’s ears are pinned back against his head, and Magnus quickly sets the dimmer switch to an acceptable level.

“Sorry, is this good?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s just that you ruined my dramatic entrance and all. No biggie! I only planned it for _twelve fucking hours_ while you slept.”

“Oh,” is all Magnus can say.

“Is that all you have to say? You nearly die and you just waltz into the kitchen like, _hey, what’s up, oh, I guess I almost kicked it while you were unconscious, no big deal!”_ Taako’s gesturing so wildly that by the end of the sentence, liquid sloshes out of his mug. He glares at the spill as if it’s personally offended him before reaching behind him for a dish towel, not turning his back to Magnus.

“You’re, ah. Probably going to wake Merle.” This is an unexpected level of anger for Taako, and while Magnus has dealt with a lot of outbursts over the past year, he doesn’t know how to deal with that particular emotion.

“Nah, Grandpa Piss over here is sleeping like the dead, or – Well. He blew all his spell slots to make sure that you _weren’t_ , you know, before the Bureau got to us, so. There’s that.”

“Guess I’ll have to thank him in the morning, then.”

“Will you,” Taako says flatly.

Magnus sighs. “What’s all this about, Taako?I don't understand.” There’s only so many cryptic insults a guy can take before he gets tired.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that this afternoon I woke up facedown in the dirt and you were _gone_ , homie! Like, as in, Merle was about to start performing death rites instead of healing spells, that kind of gone! As in, I would’ve been burnt to a crisp if not for sheer coincidence, because you’re out here dying like it’s your job!” Taako’s voice has been rising with every word, and he accentuates the last point by slamming the drawer he’s been rummaging through firmly shut, producing a wooden spoon.

“I mean, that kind of _is_ my job. What’re you doing?”

“Making us some hot chocolate, my man,” Taako says, grabbing a saucepan from one of the lower cabinets. “Don’t change the subject, the _hell_ do you mean, that’s your job?”

For all his bluster, there’s something almost vulnerable about Taako right now, which is… odd, because Magnus is the one getting yelled at.

“I don’t know, just. That’s my _job_ , protecting you guys. That’s what I do.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to be okay with you just up and dying, then?” Taako makes a noise of disgust, closing the fridge door with more force than necessary.

“I mean, _I_ am.”

“Fuck that.”

“No, really, I am _._ Like, I’ve made my peace with it, and stuff, which – I don’t know.” Magnus holds his hands out a little helplessly. This is probably a lot more distressing for Taako than it is for him, honestly. He’s not one to pry, but he would guess that saying that the dude’s lost a lot of people before is an understatement, no matter how much he tries to play this off as pure self-interest.

“You’re _thirty,_ ” Taako says.

Suddenly exhausted, Magnus sinks down onto one of the kitchen stools. “Yeah.”

“That’s insane, my guy! You have your whole life in front of you, and you’re willing to just – like, that’s a job description you’re fine with? Killing yourself for other people? Like, at any minute, you could take the blow and, poof, no more Magnus!”

“I just. I think that dying is the best thing I can do, that’s all.” Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s so _tired._

There’s sudden silence from the other end of the room, enough that he looks up to see Taako frozen at the counter, spoon in hand, giving Magnus that same guarded look again, the one he’s never been able to decipher.

“Got a plan?” he asks casually, so casually that it takes Magnus a moment to realize what he means.

He reels back a little, catching himself on the table. “No! Of course not. I mean, it’s not like _that_ , I’m not like – like…” He trails off before he can finish the sentence, but the unspoken _like you_ is left hanging in the air.

“Okay,” Taako says, blissfully ignoring Magnus’s fuck-up. “Do me a favor and walk me through this, right? ‘Cause, like, what I’m seeing right now is you trying to give me the only possessions you care about and then marching into battle with what _seems to be_ a pretty decent death wish, if I do say so myself. Anything else in there that I missed?”

“It’s not _like that,_ ” he insists. “I would never, I. I don’t want to die.”

“But?”

“There’s no buts.” Maybe if he says it with enough finality, Taako will leave him alone.

“You don’t want to die, butyou want to _be dead_ , right?” Magnus’s head snaps up, but Taako has his back to him, stirring something on the stovetop. _How did he–_ “And, like, if you were able to cease existing, if there were a Magnus-button that you could press to just _stop_ , you’d do it, right?” he continues. “Like, probably without even thinking about it.”

“I mean, yeah, but that's _different_? Like, I wouldn't. I can't.”

“Why not?” Taako needles.

“You said it yourself,” Magnus says, slightly irritated. “I’ve got people now, I can't just leave because I want to, that would put your lives in danger. It’s – people leaving, that sucks.” He draws in a breath, eyes suddenly stinging. Doesn’t think about it. Doesn't get pulled under again. “Just. I’m tired. That’s all.”

There’s the solid _thunk_ of something being placed in front of him, and he looks up to see that Taako has levitated a mug of hot chocolate onto the table. 

“Thought you said that you weren’t _like me.”_ Despite everything, there's a tinge of amusement in his voice. 

Magnus winces, curling his fingers around his mug. “Sorry.”

“No biggie, I’ve heard worse.” Taako slides into the opposite seat, tilting his chair back to prop one foot up on the table. “Also, _absolutely_ stop looking at me like that, my guy. This is my kitchen and past 3 am, it’s a liminal, judgement-free zone, which means that you get to say whatever fucked-up shit is on your mind, and I get to use my furniture in whatever ways I please.”

Magnus hums a little, turns the mug over in his hands. It’s clay, lumpy but glazed, with “#1 DAD” written on one side in thick, black strokes.

“Ango,” Taako says. “He goes to pottery lessons at the Chug ‘N Squeeze every Wednesday, keeps giving me these. Y’think he’s trying to drop a hint?”

“Um,” Magnus says, cutting him off mid-ramble, but, for once, Taako shuts up immediately. His gaze is unfocused, firmly fixed on the wood grain of the table, but he can tell that he’s being intently watched. “Do you ever – that is –” He can’t get the words out again. 

“Take your time, my man.”

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what went down yesterday! It wasn’t some sort of.” He swallows hard. “Of suicide mission or anything, I didn’t – I don’t go in there thinking, _hey, I’m gonna make sure I die in here_ or anything, it’s just. If anything _were_ to happen…”

“You’d be fine with it?”

“Exactly! And, the fucked-up thing is, sometimes I wish it would! I can never bring myself to do anything, but I, sometimes it's like, dying is the only thing I have going for me? Like, sometimes the only good thought I have is that it’s going to happen someday, that I’m going to be with –” He swallows hard. “Um. Yeah. That's basically it.”

Magnus stares down into his cup, holding his breath. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, but he feels – different, for having said that. It’s like telling Merle how to take care of Steven: Lighter. Like a weight’s been taken off of his shoulders.

Taako exhales loudly, whistling through his teeth. “Shit.”

“Yeah, you pretty much said it.”

“Look, I’m not an expert in like, brain stuff, or anything, but. You know that’s not like… a thing that everybody has to deal with, right? And that there are probably people you could like, I don't know. Talk to about this, if you're into that.”

“Yeah.”

“People who aren't me, for starters.”

“Yeah.”

“‘S nothing personal, just, I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of shitty –”

“That’s not true!” Magnus protests.

“Shitty at _this_ , hombre. Emotions. Those things. Like, I don’t have my _own_ trauma sorted out, I don’t exactly think that I can give you good advice, but if you want help, I’m out here. You know.” His words become more and more wooden as he speaks, and Magnus gets the idea that this is quite possibly the most honest Taako’s ever been.

That makes two of them. 

“This is awful supportive of you,” Magnus says, teasing. Taako perks up almost instantly.

“Yeah, well. There’s only room for one depressed asshole on the moon, and that spot’s taken, buddy."

* * *

Sleep definitely isn’t happening, so they wind up watching late night Fantasy Cartoons on the same couch that Merle’s currently passed out on, despite Magnus’s protests. There’s not much he can do about it, though: Taako, either in deference to Magnus’s emotional state or out of his own concern, has curled up against his side, unnaturally still.

Magnus is reminded of the barn cats he’d had once, the kind that would hiss and swat at his hands if he tried to pick them up, but, if he sat still enough, would crawl into his lap, allow themselves to be pet.

It’s weird, thinking about it: those afternoons spent sitting on piles of straw, sunlight shafting through the holes in the ceiling onto the wood floor as he waited. That one isn't a bad memory. It just _happened._

He hasn't thought about that in a long time.

As if on cue, Taako stirs, looking up at Magnus. “You doin’ okay?”

He hums, a small noise in the back of his throat. “I mean, after tonight? That’s a bit of a difficult question.”

“Hey–” Taako abruptly sits up, and before Magnus can ask what’s going on, he's flung himself into some sort of awkward side-hug, both arms wrapped tightly around him. It’s not the best hug Magnus has ever received – he’d give it a solid eight out of ten for effort – but he finds himself leaning into the touch anyways. He seems content to stay there, and Magnus realizes that it’s as much for Taako’s benefit as it is for his own.

There’s the sound of shifting from the other end of the couch, and then Merle’s voice, thick and fogged with sleep. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“It’s Giving Magnus Affection hour, apparently, so get get your craggy ass over to the cuddle pile,” Taako explains slowly, but, this close, Magnus can tell that he’s smiling.

Merle shuffles through the blankets for a moment, coming up with his glasses in hand. He holds them to his face, squinting. “Oh! Hey, you really _are_ alive!”

Magnus closes his eyes and hums in agreement.

There’s the sound of dragging blankets, and then he’s pinned under several hundred pounds of sleepy dwarf, a quilt haphazardly thrown across his lap. Within minutes, Merle is asleep again.

He tips his head back and listens to the sounds of Merle snoring, Taako’s quiet breaths as Magnus cards one hand through his hair. It’s… weird, that things have ended up this way. Not what he planned, but also not unpleasant.

“For the record,” Taako says, voice muffled against his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

It’s not much, but Magnus thinks that one day, he’ll be able to mean it. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [punkwixes](http://punkwixes.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr.
> 
> thanks to [quakerlol](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quakerlol), [altschmerzes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/altschmerzes/pseuds/altschmerzes), [victorionious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorionious), and [deviantdragons](http://deviantdragons.tumblr.com/) for their input and advice on this fic!!


End file.
